Of Paintings and Hairdos
by Adept of the Angels
Summary: . . . For a lack of a better title. I'll come back and change that later. ONESHOT. When Vincent drops in with the intention of talking to Cloud, he ends up with Watch Duty. How in the name of all that's Holy did this turn into a playdate with Marlene?


A/N: This is my first Final Fantasy VII story, and I'm _really_ nervous about this one. I totally love Vincent, but he's _such_ a hard character for me to write! Especially when it comes to the obvious gentleness that's hidden under a few several layers of badassness.

Anyway, this is set somewhere after Advent Children and before Dirge of Cerberus. I don't really even know which one comes first . . . but bear with me; DoC is the only FFVII game I'd ever played. Everything I know, I'd learned from fanfiction.

Disclaimer: I used to read these cute Marlene/Vincent friendship moments like a mad woman a few months ago, and I've always wanted to write one. If you see anything you recognise here, I disclaim it. I may have subconsciously picked up a few things in other fics that I might use now without actually meaning to. Other than that, Final Fantasy VII and everything that goes along with it belongs to Square Enix.

...

The clatter of the ceramic dishes bumping against each other was the only sound in the silent bar of the 7th Heaven. Tifa Lockheart stood with her arms elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the plates clean, deeply lost in thought. Every now and again, she would softly, absentmindedly hum a low tune under her breath, and then she would glance over her shoulder, peering through the open door a little ways away to make sure that little Marlene was still safely playing alone with her toys.

It was a quiet evening. The 7th Heaven had long been closed, since it was Sunday—her half day off. Tifa figured that Cloud would be home soon, and then Barret would return with Denzel from their little short field trip (and Marlene will use her manipulative teary-eyed pout to guilt Barret into taking her along next time; one thing, Tifa mused with a shake of her head, that the cheerful little ninja Yuffie could teach her).

_Knock knock knock_. The three, quick raps on the bar's door made Tifa pause with her humming and look up, puzzled. Who would be here at this hour, on a Sunday? She knew that Cloud would never bother with knocking; barging in without knocking was his and Barret's forte. Yuffie wouldn't even give the door a glance, instead opting for sneaking in and most possibly scaring the life out of anyone unlucky enough to be at home when she did. And if Cid were to visit, he'd have been there already when the bar was open, so that he could consume most of 7th Heaven's supply before anyone else could.

Drying her hands off with a towel, Tifa abandoned the dishes and hurried her way to the entrance of the bar, wondering who could possibly be—

"Vincent!"

The gasp left her mouth before she could fully comprehend the crimson-clad form of one of her dear friends and fellow AVALANCHE member standing in the doorway.

Sure enough, Vincent Valentine stood, with silent, deathly stillness and piercing scarlet eyes that bore right into you whenever you looked at him. His face was nearly expressionless as he took in the sight of Tifa before him, analyzing any changes that there might have been during his absence.

"Where have you been?" Tifa screeched, unexpectedly throwing her arms around him. She immediately retreated, though, aware of the man's aversion to close contact. She didn't seem in the least bit sorry. "We haven't heard from you in months!"

"I have been busy," came Vincent's quiet reply. Tifa almost didn't acknowledge the vague response, as she knew that he wouldn't shed any light on his whereabouts during the last few months without careful probing. She moved aside, letting him enter the bar. He stepped inside, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Tifa even thought she saw the tiniest, smallest hint of a smile tilt up at the sides of his lips, but dismissed the thought as a trick of the light.

"So how are you? What brings you here?" Tifa asked eagerly, leading Vincent into the kitchen. The dishes were completely lost on her, now that she had a chance to see her friend once again—and, with this particular friend, seeing him wasn't exactly a common luxury.

"I'm here to speak with Cloud. There are some things that I have to discuss with him."

Tifa felt her heart fall slightly at that, disappointed that he wasn't here for a friendly visit, but soon perked up again, smiling.

"He's not home yet," she said. "He's dealing with a few last-minute deliveries. You can wait for him, if you want; he should be here soon. Do you want some coffee?"

Vincent nodded his thanks at Tifa's offer, then leaned against the nearest wall as she switched on the coffee maker and proceeded with fetching mugs and sugar and milk. He watched her silently, intently listening to her words as she told him of some of the things he had missed in his absence.

Truth be told, Vincent felt good to be back here, in the 7th Heaven. He felt good to be listening to his friend speak fondly of the rest of her family.

_My family, too_, he begrudgingly admitted.

It was true; these people, AVALANCHE—they had welcomed him into their family with open arms. It was the one place that they insisted where he'd always have a place to come home to, no questions asked, though they knew that he would most likely not submit—at least, not by a long shot.

Still, Vincent felt welcome. Even when walking through the doors of the bar, he could feel the comfort of being home for the first time in a long time settle in the pit of his stomach—a feeling that calmed his inner beasts more than he would have thought possible.

So he let himself relax the tiniest bit; settling on a nearby chair, he made himself comfortable and drank coffee with Tifa, allowing her to fill him in on any recent happenings.

"There hasn't been a whole lot going on lately," she'd said when he'd asked. She giggled a bit, rolling her wine-coloured eyes. "Yuffie had started complaining about boredom. Until Reeve convinced her to join the WRO."

World Regenisis Organization. Vincent had heard bits and pieces of the group that had recently been formed to restore the Planet to its former glory and to fight against the remaining faithful members of Shinra, though there weren't many.

"How about you?" Tifa asked. Vincent could see the curiosity in her eyes—the curiosity concerning his absence and what he had been doing during his time gone.

He decided to tell her, figuring that Cloud would, anyway.

"I have found remnants of Shinra lurking near Nibelheim. There weren't many; I took care of them." Vincent didn't bother to elaborate on how he 'took care of them'. "But there seems to be more to it than that; the commander, I assume—he refused say a word, even under intense physical pain. Cloud may be able to find more information on the matter."

Tifa's expression fell visibly. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the phone suddenly releasing a shrill, ringing noise. She quickly excused herself and made her way over to the phone, picking it up and holding it close to her ear.

"Hello?" she said into the phone. Vincent watched her closely, straining his ears to try to hear the person on the other side of the line speak. He couldn't, though; even as sensitive as his ears was, he could only hear the soft mumbling of words that could be spoken by no one else other than Cloud.

Tifa looked at Vincent briefly before saying softly into the receiver, "Are you sure? . . . Yes? . . . But how long do you think . . .?" She paused as she was cut off. Vincent silently stood up and made his way toward Tifa, Cloud's voice becoming clearer as he neared her.

". . . _not sure how long it would take. But we need all the help we can get._"

Tifa paused, hesitating. "But what about Marlene? I can't just leave her here by herself . . ."

Vincent's eyes glanced in the direction of the room where he had heard subtle, quiet movements, only to see the vaguely familiar form of a six—maybe seven—year old girl standing slightly obscured behind the wall as she peeked curiously at the voices in the kitchen. Vincent recognised the girl—she had been one of the children who Cloud had fought to save during the Reunion incident a few short years ago. Vincent remembered her as the girl who had run to him willingly and without any trace of fear in her eyes, looking for shelter.

There was a moment of silence on the line now. "_Do you think Yuffie would be able to watch her? She should be back from her mission by now._"

Tifa winced. "I . . . I don't think—"

"I'll go," Vincent said, cutting her sentence off. Tifa jumped at the sudden closeness of his voice, and looked back at him.

"_Tifa?_" Cloud asked. "_Is that Vincent?_"

Tifa hesitated for a moment, before saying, "Yeah, he says he can come help you out."

"_It's no good_," Cloud said regretfully. "_You're the only one of us who won't look too conspicuous. We need to get in without any suspicions if we can help it._"

Tifa sighed, shaking her head once at Vincent, mouthing '_sorry'_.

"Then I'll watch the girl," Vincent surprised himself by saying.

Tifa was quiet for a few beats before saying softly, "Cloud, could you hold on for a second?" She pulled the phone slightly away from her ear, covering the receiver with her hand. She looked Vincent in the eyes, a slight trace of concern in them. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Vincent didn't answer, instead staring back at her with his scarlet gaze.

"_Tifa? Tifa?_" Cloud asked.

"Yeah, I'm still here," Tifa said, turning away from Vincent. The latter turned to head back toward the chair he had previously been occupying and sat down. "Vincent says he'll watch Marlene for me . . . Okay, I'll see you soon." With that, Tifa hung up. She immediately darted out of the kitchen, returning with her sneakers and gloves in her hands.

"Are you sure about this, Vincent?" she asked the gunslinger as she pulled on her sneakers and fighting gloves. As she spoke, she moved around the kitchen to grab Hi-Potions and Antidotes, stuffing them into the various hidden compartments on her belt. "I'm not sure when we'd be back. Cloud didn't tell me much; just that he needed me to meet him near the edge of town. He said something about Shinra . . . It could be related to what you want to talk to him about. But you really don't have to . . ."

"I do not mind," Vincent said quietly. He wasn't sure whether or not he really meant it.

Tifa stopped for a few seconds to look at him sincerely. "Thank you, Vincent. This really means a lot to me."

Vincent nodded mutely. Tifa accepted that as the only reply that she'd get, and turned to head to the front of the bar, calling "Marlene!" as she went. Vincent followed her, and watched as the little petite girl revealed herself from where she had been watching them silently, running toward Tifa.

"Tifa, was that Cloud? Is he coming home yet?" she asked in a childish, slightly high-pitched.

Tifa knelt in front of the girl, crouching down until she was her height. "Marlene," she said gently, "I'm going to be gone for a couple of hours. Cloud needs my help." She gestured to Vincent. "Vincent is going to watch you for a while. Okay?"

Marlene glanced at Vincent, studying him with curious, if slightly shy, eyes.

Tifa didn't wait for her to answer. "I'll be back before you know it. Promise to be good, alright?"

Marlene smiled a dazzling smile—one that could only come from an innocent child such as her in these times, Vincent thought bitterly. "Yes Tifa, I promise!"

Tifa smiled, giving Marlene a quick kiss on the forehead, gave Vincent a parting glance, and then she was out of the door.

There were a few moments of silence. Marlene watched Vincent curiously; she took in his heavy red cloak, his long, raven black hair only barely held back by a crimson bandanna, the slight frown set to his mouth, the claw that covered the length of his elbow to his arm . . .

She gulped, only slightly intimidated by the man that stood towering over her, his shoulders stiff, and his cold, scarlet eyes watching her, gauging her reaction.

She cleared her throat. "Mister . . . um . . . Uncle Vincent, sir?" she asked timidly, shyly. His face visibly softened, and he knelt down to her height, much like Tifa had done only minutes before.

"You may call me Vincent," he told her, trying to ease the girl's nerves. It took no fool to see that he was intimidating her. This girl, the one who had fearlessly ran to him for shelter only once before, was now biting her lip nervously.

She smiled when he spoke, though, finding unexpected gentleness in his deep voice, and barely undetectable warmth in his eyes.

"Can I call you Vinnie?" she asked eagerly, her voice a little higher as the hesitation left her eyes.

Vincent was taken aback for a moment, but then annoyed as he recognised Yuffie's obnoxious nickname for him. He scowled.

"I would very much appreciate if you didn't call—" he started, but was soon cut off by Marlene's squeal of excitement.

"I'm bored," she said, completely oblivious to the gunman's irritation. "Let's go do something fun! Please Vinnie?"

Vincent sighed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"What do you wish to do?"

Marlene thought for a moment, scrunching up her face and frowning as she did. Vincent found this sight to be quite amusing.

"You have very pretty hair," she finally said. "Why don't you take better care of it?"

Vincent pursed his lips. It was true; he didn't care much for his hair, as he didn't think it relevant. He didn't have time to manage his unruly mess of ebony tresses, anyway; more often than not, he wondered why he still kept it long.

"I find taking care of it unnecessary," was his simple reply. His gaze stayed level, and he struggled to keep his usual coldness from entering his eyes.

"Can I play with it?"

Vincent was shocked by the unexpected request. He didn't know how to respond—instead, he just stared at her, knowing that a hint of his confusion was only barely evident in his eyes.

Marlene, mistaking his silence for defiance, jutted out her lower lip into a pout and widened her eyes.

"Please?" she begged quietly.

Vincent sighed. _May as well just humour her_, he thought bitterly.

"Very well," he muttered.

"Yay!" Marlene cheered. She grabbed Vincent's hand—his _left_ hand, he realised with a jolt; the one with the brass-coloured claw—and dragged him deeper into the bar, where there was a short hallway and a series of doors. She picked one and entered, still dragging Vincent along with her.

The room was simple; there was nothing particularly interesting about it. It had cheerful-looking yellow-coloured walls, the paint old and starting to peel off. The bottom of the wall was completely covered in scribbles and pictures, like a large drawing canvas. Vincent assumed that they were artworks made by none other than Marlene, and most likely Tifa and Cloud, too, considering the amount of neat pictures compared to the scribbled, messy ones.

There was only one bed in this room, the bedding a crisp white with a few stains on. There was a simple dresser right in front of the large window, and a mirror across from the bed. Toys scattered the floor, some seeming hand-made, others bought.

It was by no means anything special, but it was nice enough. If Vincent had to be completely honest with himself, it seemed almost . . . pleasant.

With an excitedness that only a child such as Marlene could show, she ushered Vincent towards the bed, gesturing for him to take a seat so that he was facing the mirror. He was reluctant, at first; he was not one who particularly liked looking at himself, but he grudgingly complied, nonetheless. As soon as he was seated, Marlene went straight to work, brushing his hair thoroughly in an effort to get rid of all of the tangles. She tried not to pull his hair in fear of hurting him, but Vincent never reacted even when she did.

After quite a while of struggling, Marlene managed to smooth his hair out completely. Vincent had to admit, it looked a lot better when it was brushed out, and felt a lot better, too. It looked more like it used to when he still cared about his life, when he still _had_ a life.

Marlene wasn't finished there, though; with a brand new toy to play with (. . . figuratively speaking), she jumped at the chance to test all sorts of hairstyles out on Vincent's head. She started with simple braids, trying out a very sloppy French braid that Tifa had taught her a while ago. When she had redone it a few several times to make it look _just_ right, she cheered triumphantly before starting again with a new style altogether. When she had finally run out of ideas, she snuck into Cloud's room and stole the hair gel he used to make his hair look all spiky-like as it usually did, and tried out more silly new inventions on Vincent's hair.

Through all of this, Vincent did little more than watch the young girl have her fun. She didn't seem to mind his lack of comments, and settled with just the few grunts of approval he offered every now and again. Some of Marlene's strange hair styles even made him grin the faintest of grins, and, though it was concealed by the heavy cloak he still hadn't removed, Marlene could still somehow see the smile in his eyes, and seemed pleased by it.

After a good few hours, Marlene tied Vincent's hair in a simple pony tail, trying her very best not to make it look girly-like in any way, and jumped to her feet.

"There!" she chirped. "All done! What do you think, Vinnie?"

Vincent studied himself, feeling silly just sitting there in a seven-year-old's room with his hair pulled back out of his face in a pony tail. It felt strange not having his ebony tresses falling in his face to hide his emotions, instead being swept back and allowing the world to see what he had hidden for so long. It felt a little disconcerting, and kind of . . . freeing.

But, despite feeling generous enough to allow the girl a gentle smile and a softly muttered 'thank you', Vincent vowed to never let anyone hear of this. Ever.

With a dazzling smile, Marlene bounded over to the dresser on the other side of the room and rummaged through the bottom drawer. When she found what she was looking for, she skipped back to Vincent and held out an open shoebox, filled with mismatched crayons and pencils, as well as paintbrushes and paint.

"Will you paint some pictures with me on my wall?" she asked sweetly, smiling.

Vincent glanced at the bottom of the walls, all covered with drawings and paintings. He felt a small frown crease his forehead as he redirected his crimson eyes back to Marlene.

"Are you sure that's alright?" he asked, not wanting to get her in trouble, even though the wall was already very obviously the household's drawing board. Oh, well—better safe than sorry.

"'Course it is," Marlene said, nodding. "Me and Denzel always draw pictures on the wall when we're bored. Daddy helps us when he's here, and sometimes even Cloud and Tifa draw with us. Come here, I'll show you."

With that, Marlene put the drawing utensils down on the floor and once again grabbed Vincent's hand, pulling him with her as she sat down on the floor next to the wall.

"See that one there?" she asked, pointing to a small replica of Cloud, perched on top of Fenrir and driving at full speed through what seemed like a forest. It was complete with bushes and trees in the background, as well as a flat dirt road. It wasn't a particularly wonderful drawing; there weren't any close details such as facial features or anything remotely close to that, but the figure was recognizable. "Tifa made that one. And this one over here?" She pointed to another one, this one drawn more roughly than the previous one. It was six figures, only shadows, which all faced in one direction, weapons drawn as though ready for a fight. Though it was quite sloppily done, Vincent could recognize each figure as a member of AVALANCHE. "Cloud did that. Oh, and that one—" Once again, she pointed, a little higher up. This drawing wasn't nearly as good as the others; it seemed to be awkwardly shaped into the figure of an animal—though which animal, Vincent could not make out—that was seemingly wagging its tail and dripping something out of its mouth. "—Daddy did that one. He knew I always wanted a doggy, so he gave me one."

Vincent chuckled inwardly. He could now recognize the shape, now that he knew what to look for, but the drawing was quite badly done. In fact, it looked more like the killer hound dogs that that dreaded Hojo had experimented on than an actual dog.

He supposed that it had something to do with the fact that Barret's right arm consisted of a huge machine gun instead of actually a hand, and had to draw with his weaker hand.

"So, will you draw with me?"

For a second, Vincent hesitated. He hadn't so much as touched a pencil with the intention of drawing something in more than thirty years. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually sat down and drawn something just for the sake of passing time—it must have been so long ago that he wondered if he still knew how to.

But, again, he decided to agree just to humour the girl, not wanting to see her sad.

So, when Marlene dragged the shoebox full of crayons and pencils closer, Vincent picked one out, found an appropriate spot, and started drawing.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as both focused on their own projects, the sound of scribbling the only distinguishable sound in the room. Every once in a while, Marlene would glance at Vincent to try and catch a glimpse of what he was drawing, but was unable to make it out as it was too light and nearly impossible to see. After a while, she gave up and focused on finishing her family picture of Tifa, Cloud, Barret, Denzel, Yuffie, herself, and Vincent. She wasn't even close to finished, but was so far satisfied with how it came out.

A half hour of companionable silence followed before Vincent moved again to switch his pencil for a paintbrush. When Marlene noticed this, she'd jumped up and disappeared temporarily out of her room before returning again, clutching a large white shirt in her hands. It was covered in various random colours, all dried up and beyond washing out. She'd insisted that he wear it while using the paint.

"We always wear this if we want to paint," she explained, and he'd finally complied by taking off his thick red cloak and donned the paint-splattered shirt over his pitch black attire.

After another half hour, Vincent lifted the paintbrush off of the wall to examine his work.

To be honest, it came out better than he had thought it would. It wasn't quite perfect, as he hadn't done this in thirty years—coupled with the fact that the wall was quite uneven and a little uncomfortable to draw on, plus the lack of more colours at his disposal—but he was satisfied enough.

As Vincent was still scrutinizing his artwork, he heard Marlene gasp beside him, and glanced over to see her staring at the wall in front of him.

It took up a lot more space than the other pictures did, but it was perfect. It was a large painting of Marlene herself, from the back and slightly from the side, as she sat with a thoughtful expression on her face. It was the same one she had worn before she'd decided on what she wanted to draw, and it captured her every feature perfectly.

"It's so pretty!" Marlene gasped, admiring the masterpiece as though she was having a hard time looking away. With a great deal of effort, she managed to break her gaze and look at Vincent, an awed expression on her face. "Where did you learn to paint like that?"

Vincent was quiet for a second, not quite sure how to react. It has been a very long time since anyone had seen him do this, and he was almost afraid of letting this piece of his character escape in the presence of a young girl and in the house of the only friends he had. To them, he was supposed to be the silent, loner type of person who didn't dare let anyone come any closer to him than arm's length.

But here he was, revealing something of his previous life—of the life that he'd once had—to his friend's adopted daughter.

Finally, realizing that said adopted daughter was still waiting for a response, he said quietly, "My mother taught me."

"Whoa," Marlene breathed again, still stunned and completely unaware of the frown that was now on Vincent's face. "Can you teach me, too?"

An unexpected laugh bubbled up in his chest as she asked that one question, her face hopeful and innocent, just as any child her age should be. He didn't let the laugh escape past his lips, though he did let a small smile soften his face.

"Another time," he said, and stood up off the ground. Marlene followed soon after, stretching her small body after sitting in one position for so long.

"I'm hungry," she said, pouting. "Can you make me something to eat?"

Trying—but failing miserably—not to smile, Vincent looked down at the girl, who returned the gaze with an unwavering, open look of anticipation. With a sigh, he gave up on trying to be indifferent in her presence. She took the sigh as resignation, and jumped happily. He allowed her to once again grab his hand and drag him to the kitchen.

Once she had eaten, she insisted they play something. Vincent, no longer having the heart to even hesitate, complied.

As he let Marlene wear his heavy red cloak around the bar and let him 'fight off evil monsters' in order to 'protect his princess (a.k.a Marlene)', Vincent wondered how a simple day visiting Cloud to speak with him about Shinra remnants had turned out quite like this.

And he also realized that . . . he should really visit his friends more often.

It was dead silent as an exhausted Tifa and Cloud entered the 7th Heaven a good hour or two into the night that same day. The bar was dark, and not a single noise could be heard no matter how Tifa strained her ears.

This instantly pricked at her attention. Usually, all of the lights would be on, and Marlene would instantly be there to greet them, no matter how deep into the night it was. She looked at Cloud worriedly, and he, in turn, frowned back at her.

Tifa momentarily wondered if it was a good idea to leave Marlene alone with Vincent. He was, after all, what Yuffie liked to call, the 'vampire'.

"Do you think maybe Vincent took her somewhere?" Tifa asked quietly, almost afraid to break the silence.

Cloud shook his head, still frowning. "This time at night? Vincent's not that stupid."

"Maybe . . . they're in one of the rooms?" Tifa suggested. With no better alternative, both of them headed to the back of the bar, Cloud going upstairs and Tifa heading to the hallway leading from the kitchen. She switched some lights on as she went in an effort to try and dispel the creepiness of both the silence and the darkness.

As quietly as she could manage, Tifa opened each door she passed, each time tensing in case there was someone inside that shouldn't be there. When she reached Marlene's room, she realized that it was opened a crack, and a dim light escaped through the opening. Carefully, Tifa pushed the door open, peeking inside, only to feel her eyes widen in shock, her mouth falling open.

Inside was the last thing she ever expected to see: Vincent, peacefully asleep, lying on Marlene's small bed with an equally asleep Marlene clutched protectively in his arms. He was, for once, not wearing his cloak—the cloak, she realized, was draped over Marlene's small shoulders, half falling off as it was way too big for her—and instead wore the shirt Cloud usually wore whenever he and Marlene would paint something together. His hair was, for a change, neatly brushed and tied back, a pony tail keeping the tresses out of his face in a way that his red bandanna never managed to.

Tifa basically choked with excitement.

Unable to tear herself from the beautiful sight in front of her, she turned her head slightly in the direction of Cloud's approaching footsteps.

"Cloud," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the perfectness of the scene in front of her. "_Please_ tell me we have a camera."

Cloud, more confused than ever, quietly peeked into Marlene's room, only to have the exact same jaw-dropping, eye-widening reaction as Tifa.

"That . . .," he started, but trailed off. He shook his head, blinking as though he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him due to exhaustion. But, when he realized that it was really there, he looked at Tifa, lips curving into a smile.

"That is the cutest damn thing I have ever seen."

...

A/N: Well . . . that didn't exactly turn out how I'd planned it . . . but it's good enough. I think I got a bit carried away . . . so I'm _really_ sorry if anyone's out of character. I really tried my best with this one. I actually had to rewrite the ending once, 'cause I was basically feeling the excitement Tifa was feeling times ten, and was actually resisting the urge to write a 'kawaii!' fangirl reaction from Tifa . . . which would not have come out well. I seriously watch way too much Ouran High School Host Club.

Anyways, feedback would be much appreciated. And, as I'd said, _please_ don't kill me if you see something you recognize; I can already see one thing that I've read in another Vincent/Marlene story. There would have been more actual _original _moments, but the plot bunnies were not agreeing with me. I'll come back later and rewrite it . . . I dunno, in a month or something. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed it.


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